The Fine Line
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: Tim has gone crazy. How? Why? ...and what will it take to keep him from hurting the others? Crazy!Tim story. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This is a short story (for me anyway) dealing with a topic which has, for the last few years, been one I've tried and failed to write: Tim being crazy. I've had Tim suffer mental breakdowns before, but I've been wanting to write a Crazy!Tim story for a while. I even have about five snippets of stories on my hard drive where I've tried and failed to get one going. This is the story that finally saw completion. It's not very deep. It's just...how things could go if Tim suddenly went crazy. It's actually kind of on the order of an episode (although we'd never see this on the show...unfortunately). I've taken some liberties but it's because of a lack of information that I could track down.

**Disclaimer:** I do not now, nor have I ever, nor _will_ I ever own NCIS and I am not making money from this story.

* * *

**The Fine Line  
**by Enthusiastic Fish

_There's a fine line between genius and insanity. I have erased this line.  
__~Oscar Levant_

**Chapter 1**

"Come on, McGee! We need to get in here!" Tony said.

Tim muttered under his breath, "You want to do this, Tony? Fine. Do it."

"Enough talk! We only have two hours to find where Gibbs and Ziva are being held," Vance said. "Need I remind you that their oxygen runs out after that?"

"No, sir," Tim said.

"Then, stop bickering and find them!"

Tim suppressed a retort. He was stressed. This stupid website was the only link they had to where Gibbs and Ziva were. ...and he was the only one who could break into it and find its source. ...and he didn't need the backseat hackers to tell him how to do his job. That included Vance.

All those thoughts ran through his head, but he didn't say anything. He just focused his anger on the computer, focused on getting through to them, on finding where they were. He would do it. He _would_ do it! He could...and he would.

One hour later, he was through.

"There they are!" he shouted. He got the address and sent it to his phone. Then, he and Tony and Vance ran out of the building.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Quietly, they approached the house.

"You in position?" Vance whispered.

"I'm ready at the back," Tim said.

"Ready on the side."

"On my count. One. Two. _Three!_"

Abruptly the quiet house erupted into chaos. Shouts of "NCIS!" and "Freeze!" were nearly drowned out under the shouts of their targets. In seconds, the only noise in the house was coming from the kitchen.

The man in the kitchen must have had some sort of clairvoyance because he was ready right when Tim came in, ramming Tim in the shoulder and taking him to the floor. Tim wrestled with the man and finally got him under control, putting the cuffs on him while he could hear Tony and Vance breaking open the box where the drug dealers had stashed Gibbs and Ziva. He was breathing heavily as he read the man his rights.

"Drew Arnold...you're under arrest for possession and distribution and for kidnapping and attempted murder. You have the right to an attorney. If you can't afford an attorney..." He hitched his shoulder painfully. The guy had hit him really hard.

"You okay in there, McGee?" Tony's voice came.

"Yeah, fine. Gibbs? Ziva?"

Tim heard movement behind him and turned around. Ziva, looking wan and tired, was leaning against the wall. "We will be fine, McGee."

"Good." He looked at the man on the floor. "Lucky for you." He pulled him to his feet, accidentally kicking what looked like a futuristic syringe in the process. He paid it little mind, assuming that it had been knocked to the floor in the struggle and dragged Arnold to the front to join the other two men Tony and Vance had arrested. Tony was covering them while Vance helped Gibbs out of the room. Ziva sank down onto a couch, clearly exhausted.

Vance took control, letting Gibbs sit next to Ziva and calling for backup and for an ambulance. Tim couldn't get his shoulder to stop hurting and massaged it.

"What's up, McGee?" Tony asked.

"Arnold," Tim said. "He hit me. I'm okay. Just bruised. Knocked the wind out of me."

"That's because you're too scrawny, McSkinny. You don't have any padding anymore."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the compliment, Tony."

By the time the ambulance got there, Tim was ready to go. He was starting to feel antsy and he just wanted to get back to NCIS and get everything back to normal. He'd started seeing things, as if there were people hovering just out of his line of sight. No one noticed because of the focus on Ziva and Gibbs. Vance was helping them out to the ambulance (or rather forcing Gibbs to go with the EMTs).

It had been a long two days. Tim didn't think he'd slept the entire time. No one had, but for the last six hours, he'd been trying to hack that internet signal and now he was ready to relax...except that he _couldn't_ relax. Instead, he could feel his heart racing and he was sure there was something else going on. He was _sure_ of it. They'd missed something. Arnold had...

Then, Tim looked over at Arnold and found him grinning at him as if he knew some big joke.

"What are you smiling at?" Tim demanded, suddenly furious. "Huh? What are _you_ smiling at, dirtbag? You think this is funny?" He stormed across the room and screamed while shoving his gun in Arnold's face. "Do you think _this_ is funny?"

"Whoa! McGee! Back off!" Tony said, grabbing Tim and pulling him back.

"Let go! He thinks it funny!" Tim said, pulling to get away. "He thinks this is all hilarious!"

"Stand down, Agent McGee!" Vance ordered, coming back into the house. "I said stand down!"

Tim threw off Tony's restraining hands. Vance and Tony...both trying to keep him away. They must be a part of it. He laughed.

"Fine. Fine, I will." _For now._

"You take the car back to NCIS," Vance said. "We'll get these guys back ourselves. Then, you can take the rest of the day off. You need to wind down."

Tim just laughed again and stalked out of the house.

As he crossed the lawn, he was suddenly struck momentarily by a dizzy spell. Everything swirled around him, the whole world distorting in his view and he felt as though his skin was crawling...no, it wasn't his _skin_ that was crawling. It was...

Then, the sensation faded and Tim looked around, making sure no one had seen him...especially not Tony and Vance. Couldn't trust them. They were in on it. He yanked open the car door and revved the engine before pulling away.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Getting the three men put in holding cells, the evidence collected and checking on Ziva and Gibbs took time. By the evening, Tony was finally able to wonder if Tim had really gone home. A quick check of the parking lot and the garage said told him that Tim must still be around. ...but where was he? And if he _was_ still at NCIS, what was he doing?

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim sat on the steps in the emergency stairwell, rocking back and forth, simmering with rage.

"It's all their fault," he said. "You're right. It's them. They did this. It's because of them. And I have to stop them. Right...you're right. I have to... It's the only way. Tony's easy. He's just...just a low man on the totem pole. It's Vance. Vance has all the power. He's the one I have to stop. That's right. That's right. He's the one...and..." Tim stopped and began to shake, his respiration increasing dramatically as the stairwell began to distort, the walls dripping and no longer the boring matte gray, but conduits to horror. They slowly faded after a few minutes but didn't go away completely.

The voices returned.

"Yes... That's right. I agree." Tim stood up. "I'll do it. Now. I'll stop him now. If I stop now...if I do, then...yes...then, it will stop. Put them back where they belong. Yes. That's right. Okay. Okay. I'm...going." He drew his gun and then paused. "No. Not yet. People will stop you if you pull the gun now. You have to to to wait. Yes. Wait. Okay."

He stood, unaware of having returned to the stairs beforehand. He braced himself on the wall as his head started to spin in tandem with the spinning walls. The spell passed and he climbed back to the bullpen. Tony was there.

_Get him later. He doesn't need to be taken out now. Later. Get the head first._

It was dark outside. When had that happened? Another ploy. Another trick. That's what it was.

"McGee! What are you still doing here?"

"I have to see Vance," Tim said.

"He's in his office. What's up with you? You're acting really weird."

Tim didn't bother to answer. He just laughed and shook his head. Weird. As if he didn't know. He threw back his head and laughed loudly and then walked to the stairs.

Tony walked up behind him and grabbed his arm.

"Yo, McGee...you're really not looking so hot."

Tim began shaking again and Tony wasn't going to stop him. Oh, no. He wasn't.

"You're not...I won't let you."

"Won't let me what?" Tony asked. "McGee...what's going on?"

Tim turned around and punched Tony as hard as he could, a solid whack across the face. Tony staggered backward...and they were up a couple of stairs and so there was nothing for him to stagger backward onto. He tumbled to the floor of the bullpen and lay still. Tim smiled and then laughed again.

"Easier than I thought. So strong. Yes, that's really easy. Got him. One shot. Down. Right. Now, Vance." Tim ran up the stairs.

Pamela was at her desk, late...but it looked like she was leaving. Good.

"Agent McGee...what are you–?"

Tim pulled out his gun and pointed it at her.

"Take a long lunch. Go. Now."

Pamela raised her hands in defense. "Agent McGee...I..."

"I have have have a...I have business with Vance. Get out of here...or should I help you?"

Eyes wide, she backed slowly away from him and then ran away. Tim laughed.

"Scared little rabbit."

Again, the dizziness overwhelmed him for a moment and the monsters came oozing out of the walls as they dripped down in front of his eyes. He backed away from them until he ran into the door to Vance's office. Then, he remembered what he was doing and pulled open the door.

"Yes, I understand," Vance said on the phone, facing the window.

"You won't ignore me. Not anymore," he said and fired his gun right into the phone.

Vance spun around in shock and stared at Tim as he would an alien.

Tim closed and locked the door.

"We have...have...Yes...And I'm going to stop you," Tim said, smiling. "You're going to stop. Now."

Tim aimed his gun right at Vance's head.

"Understand?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Okay, Agent Gibbs. You and Agent David are free to go," the doctor said in exasperation. "However, I want you taking a long weekend. You ran a real risk of severe oxygen deprivation and that's not something you throw off in a few hours. Understand?"

"Yes. We understand," Ziva said, acting like she wasn't itching to leave and find out how the case had progressed.

NCIS had become involved when their resident drug dealers had raided a Navy supply depot and made off with medical supplies, particularly syringes...and most especially some newly-designed jet injectors, autoinjectors which didn't use needles but instead shot a high-pressured stream of a drug through the skin, ideally reducing the pain involved in getting an injection. The new models had been stolen and NCIS was tasked with finding them. Ziva and Gibbs had picked the wrong place to go and been captured with the idea of trying to distract NCIS until the shipments could be moved. Now that they had both been breathing normally for a couple of hours, they felt fine and wanted to get an update.

"Taxi?" she asked.

"Yeah. I don't have my car."

"...and no one bothered to come and check on us. They must be busy, but I thought that McGee, at least, might think of it."

Gibbs smiled. "They had three guys to process, a scene to go over, evidence for Abby. They're probably busy."

They got in a taxi and headed for NCIS.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Abby had loads of material to go through, but finally, about eleven p.m., she had only one evidence bag to open. It was a single jet injector taken from the kitchen by Lovitz' team.

Abby sighed. "Man, haven't I done enough today? I think I have." She tried to massage the kink out of her neck. "...but why was this one in the kitchen? I thought they'd kept all the stuff they stole together. Okay, Abby. I guess you should run this one before you head out."

She opened the evidence bag and then swabbed the interior of the injector, shoving it into the mass spectrometer.

"Okay. Major Mass Spectrometer, do your thing...and I'll see you later."

Satisfied that things could run in her absence and that nothing was urgent enough to require her gentle touch, Abby grabbed her things and decided to head up to the bullpen to see if Tony and Tim were still around.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Pamela stuck her head out of the closet into which she'd run after fleeing the office. It didn't look as though Tim had followed her. She didn't have much interaction with any of the MCRT, being a newish hire and not needing to talk to them, but she had never thought of Tim as that kind of person. He had terrified her. His gun, yes, but mostly the way he had talked. He was crazy.

Satisfied that she would not be pursued, Pamela headed down to the exit, knowing that Henry would still be on duty and could tell her what to do about Tim's actions. She didn't know what he was doing in the office, but she hoped that it was just an elaborate joke...one that no one had bothered to let her in on.

She reached the exit and saw a very welcome sight.

"Agent Gibbs! Agent David!" she called out and ran over to them, suddenly feeling frightened again.

"What is it, Pamela?" Ziva asked, looking surprised.

"Something's wrong!"

"What?" Gibbs asked.

"Agent McGee just threatened me."

"What?" Ziva asked, sounding skeptical.

"He was acting crazy!" Pamela said. "He pulled out his gun and pointed it at me, saying that he had business with Director Vance and that I should leave...or he would help me. Honest! I'm not making this up!"

Gibbs looked at Ziva and sighed. "DiNozzo put him up to this, you think?"

"I didn't see Agent DiNozzo anywhere, and I ran out of the office fast. I didn't even see him down in the bullpen. This wasn't...it wasn't a joke, Agent Gibbs. He was _weird_! His eyes kept...kept moving around and he was shaking and...and I really thought he would have shot me! There's something _wrong_!"

"Okay, okay, Pamela. You stay down here. We'll go up and check."

"You want me to come with you?" Henry asked.

"No. We'll stop and get Tony on our way up. We'll call down if there's a problem."

"Okay."

Gibbs and Ziva sighed and headed for the stairs.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Abby got off the elevator and was bugged when she didn't see anyone.

"Did everyone leave without saying good-bye?" she demanded loudly.

A groan greeted her.

"Tony?" she asked.

Another groan.

She ran around the cubicles and found Tony on the floor by the stairs, just starting to stir.

"Tony! What happened?"

Tony opened his eyes and looked at Abby vaguely.

"Abby?"

"Yeah, it's me, Tony."

Tony tried to look around. "Where's McGee?"

"I don't know. Why?"

"He hit me."

"What?"

Tony blinked a few times. "McGee hit me," he said, almost sounding surprised himself.

"No... He wouldn't do that, not to knock you out!"

"He did. He said he was going up to...to see Vance."

"I'm going to get Ducky. You're obviously suffering from...some sort of concussion or something, Tony. Tim wouldn't have hit you that hard. I mean...he'd probably hit you if you asked for it, but..."

Tony tried to sit up. "I didn't do anything!" He sank back to the floor with a groan.

"I'm still getting Ducky!" Abby said and pulled out her phone.

"Abby, what happened?"

Abby looked over and saw Ziva and Gibbs coming around from the stairs.

"You're okay!" she said happily and momentarily forgot Tony on the floor in order to run over and hug them both.

"You knew that already, Abbs," Gibbs said. "You called us."

"I know! But it's good to _see_ that you're okay, too!"

"What happened to Tony?"

"McGee punched me out, Boss," Tony said, managing to sit up, although he didn't go any further than that.

Ziva looked at Gibbs in concern.

"You say that _McGee_ did this?"

"Yeah!" Tony said, loudly. "I asked him what he was doing and he punched me for my trouble. After he acted so weird at the house today, I was worried about him."

"He did not..."

"After you two left. He nearly shot Drew Arnold just because the guy was looking at him."

"Why?"

"I don't know, Ziva. Maybe he lost his mind," Tony grumbled and grabbed his head. "I'm only dying here. Don't worry about me, will you."

Abby looked chagrined. "I'll call Ducky." She pulled out her phone. "Ducky, hi. Tony is in need of some medical attention."

"_What happened?"_

"He says that McGee hit him."

"Tell him I fell down the stairs. McGee can't knock me out with one punch. He can't hit hard enough."

Abby grinned. "Tony says that he fell down the stairs."

"_He is coherent?"_

"Yeah, but he seems really woozy and he's still sitting. Doesn't want to get up."

"_All right. I'll be right up. What does Timothy have to say?"_

"He's not here."

"_Oh. I see. I'll be right up."_

Abby hung up. "Ducky's coming. Where did you say Tim went?"

"He's up in Vance's office according to Pamela," Gibbs said.

Ziva's eyes widened. "Gibbs...if this is not a joke...then..."

Gibbs looked at her and nodded. The two of them left Tony and Abby in the bullpen and dashed up the stairs, feeling winded long before they reached the top...but finally thinking that this was a potentially-dangerous situation.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Vance froze in place as Tim aimed the gun at him. Not one hour ago...maybe not even five minutes ago, he would have laughed if someone had told him that Tim would present a terrifying sight to him. Tim wasn't scary. He just wasn't. Vance didn't make the mistake of thinking he was a pushover, but Tim wasn't a frightening person.

"Do...Do...Do you understand me?" Tim repeated.

The safety was definitely off the gun.

Now, Tim was a very frightening person. He was nearly hyperventilating as he stared at Vance...but he couldn't really be described as staring. His eyes were moving back and forth incessantly, his head jerking to follow them every so often. Tim's pupils were also dilated making the crazy look in them even worse. The hand holding the gun trembled and as Tim stared at him, his mouth would curl into a smile which then faded...only to return again.

In short, Tim looked and was acting absolutely insane.

"I understand you completely, Agent McGee," Vance said very carefully and set the now-useless phone down on his desk. He'd been talking to SECNAV, and he wondered how long it would take for him to wonder what had happened and get worried.

He hoped it would happen soon...particularly when Tim looked away from Vance and started talking to empty space.

"He's... He has to. That's...yes, that's how it works. Should I kill him now? Or later? Should I? No...right...not yet. He has to stop...stop...stop...stop it...stop it first. Yes. Yes. Okay." Tim looked back at Vance. "You hear me? You...You. You're... That's right. That's right!"

Tim began to shake and then he looked around the room, his own eyes filling with terror and he backed away from Vance who took an experimental step around to confront Tim directly.

A big mistake.

Tim fired a wild shot that shattered the window behind Vance.

Vance flinched.

"Don't don't don't don't don't move!" He began pacing back and forth, gesticulating wildly with both hands. "I knew it! I knew it! I knew it! I knew it! You're a part of it. You are! You wouldn't...move...no no no no no...you wouldn't have moved if you...weren't...yeah. That's it. Proof!"

"I won't move, Agent McGee," Vance said, trying to stay calm. "What do you want me to do?"

Again, Tim seemed to be listening to someone else. Then, he looked back over his shoulder for a second before turning back to Vance.

"Who else is in here? I can hear them!"

"No one. Just me."

"No. There's someone!" Tim turned toward the television that was on, tuned in to ZNN. He fired three shots at it. "Shut up!" he screamed as the television fell to pitiful pieces on the floor.

Vance silently counted the shots. If the clip was full, and there was no reason to doubt it, then Tim had fired five times. Seven shots left. Hopefully, none of those would go into a human being.

"Giving you instructions? Huh? That's it! It is!"

"Well, they're not anymore," Vance said, realizing that it was pointless to argue. If Tim couldn't tell the difference between a television and a real person, there were bigger problems. "What do you want from me, Agent McGee?"

"Give give give give give me your weapons. All of them. No hiding. They'll know. They'll know," he said and laughed. "They'll know and they'll tell me." He nodded vigorously. "You hide anything and I'll kill you. Understand? Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"All of them. I know you have...two...two...yes, two guns. I know."

Vance didn't waste time wondering how Tim knew he kept two guns at NCIS. He pulled them both out, one at a time.

"Toss them...over here. Over here by me. Both of them. Toss them. Now." Every order was accompanied by wild gestures.

Vance did as he was told and then hesitated when Tim had another of his even stranger episodes, where he seemed to be seeing something horrifying.

"Stop it!" he shouted. "Stop it! Stop stop stop stop stop stop stopstopstopstopstop!"

Again, Tim fired the gun. This time at the walls.

_Six...seven...eight..._

Then, the episode passed and Tim looked at Vance as if no time had elapsed.

"Give me your knife."

"Knife?" Vance asked, surprised. He didn't generally carry a knife. He knew about Gibbs' rule to do so, but he himself only carried a knife when he was out on the rare assignment. He went too many places where weapons were prohibited.

"Your knife!" Tim screamed at him.

"I don't carry a knife, Agent McGee."

"You do! I know you do! They told me!" Tim lifted his gun again and pointed it at Vance, clearly ready to fire. "Give me your knife!"

Vance looked around at his desk, searching for something that would _look_ like the knife Tim thought he had.

A letter opener. He picked it up.

"Here it is."

To Vance's relief, Tim accepted it without question.

"Throw it over here. ...right, right...underhand. No overhand. Just toss it."

Vance willingly threw the letter opener as instructed.

"Now, what, Agent McGee?"

Tim, for the first time, seemed uncertain. As if he didn't know what exactly he wanted, what was going on. His twitches were getting more frequent and his face was flushed.

...but before Vance could try and press his advantage, someone tried to open the door...and then there was a knock. That enraged Tim who turned to the door.

"Back off!" Vance shouted in warning, recognizing what Tim was about to do.

"Go away! Go away! Go away! Go away!" Tim screamed over and over again and then fired his gun.

_Nine...ten...eleven... One more. One more._

Then, Tim looked at Vance and then over at the guns Vance had thrown. Vance cursed inwardly. He had hoped that Tim's insanity would keep him from remembering that there were two loaded weapons on the floor.

No such luck. Tim walked over and picked them up, throwing his own weapon to the side, one bullet still in the clip by Vance's count.

_Are they both fully-loaded?_ Vance wondered to himself. He couldn't remember, but he knew that he didn't dare risk it.

"You're working with them. You're not to be trusted. You have to die." Tim nodded and then...listened to his imaginary friends. "That's right. He's..." Tim stopped and started shaking violently. Vance both feared and hoped this would lead to a collapse of some sort. He took a few more steps.

Again, big mistake, he dove to the floor as Tim screamed wordlessly and began firing both guns. This time, Vance lost count of how many bullets had been fired. He couldn't tell if Tim was firing both at once or one more than the other. It was just impossible with Tim's screaming and the bullets.

Then, suddenly, Tim stopped, walked to the wall, guns in his hands and punched the wall. Over and over, not even wincing as he hit it as hard as he could. Vance, even though he knew it was stupid, couldn't stop himself from trying to move forward to help. Instantly, one gun was pointed at him.

"You you you you...stop. No. Don't...don't move. No. No."

"Why are you doing this, McGee?"

Tim didn't answer, but he began to laugh even as he continued to punch the wall. It wasn't a humorous laugh. It was pure insanity converted to sound.

Whatever was causing this, Vance was beginning to fear that one or the other of them was going to die before it was over.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Was that McGee shooting?" Ziva asked, breathing hard as she and Gibbs stood up after diving out of the way of the bullets that had been fired through the door.

"It wasn't Vance," Gibbs said.

"We cannot know for certain. Perhaps there is a third person in the room?"

"That was McGee's voice."

"Yes, but..."

"But nothing, Ziva. Something's going on in there, and trying to pretend that McGee isn't a part of it won't help us end it."

"There is no camera in the Director's office. We cannot find out what is happening."

"Unless we call. McGee must have his phone with him. Vance will as well."

"He did not react so well to a knock on the door."

"True."

"Gibbs! Gibbs! Are you okay?" Abby's voice grew louder as she approached.

"Stay out there, Abby! Don't come in!" Gibbs ordered.

He gestured to Ziva and they both went out to the balcony.

"What's going on? We heard the shots from downstairs!"

"And you ran _toward_ them?" Ziva asked.

"I had to make sure you two weren't broken and bleeding...so soon after being saved from certain death!"

Ziva sighed. "We were not injured. ...but it appears that McGee is the one shooting."

"What? No! Tim wouldn't!"

"He also would not threaten Pamela with a gun and would not punch Tony hard enough to knock him out. Something has happened to McGee and he is not acting like himself."

"What are you going to do?" Abby asked.

"Figure out what's going on and try to stop him."

"Stop him...how?"

Gibbs looked at Abby. "If we can't talk him down..."

"No! No, Gibbs! You _can't_! You can't do that!"

"It's not the first choice, but just trying to open the door made McGee shoot at us."

Abby continued to shake her head.

"We need to figure out what's going on in there, Abbs. We need eyes in the office."

"We have the snake camera like we used to spy on Ari in Autopsy," Abby said reluctantly.

"We could slide that under the door into Vance's office," Ziva said. "That would let us know what is really going on in there."

"Ziva, you stay here and keep me apprised about anything that happens."

"Yes, Gibbs."

Gibbs grabbed Abby by the arm and directed her back down the stairs.

"Did you see McGee after they got back?"

"No. Tony brought down the evidence. I assumed Tim was working on other stuff."

"Okay. You go and get the camera ready."

"Okay." Abby headed out while Gibbs crouched down beside Tony and Ducky. Tony was looking much better but still seem uninclined to stand.

"Well?" Tony asked.

"McGee tried to shoot us through the door...although I'm sure he didn't know it was us. ...but he probably wouldn't have cared based on what it sounded like."

"What?" Ducky asked, aghast. "Impossible."

"What could be wrong with him, Duck?"

"I couldn't venture a guess without having seen or at least heard him speaking. There's any number of things that could explain his actions, from schizophrenia to psychosis to some sort of delirium, drug use...there are too many possibilities."

"What happened while Ziva and I were...occupied?" Gibbs asked.

"Nothing out of the ordinary," Ducky said. "Everyone was on edge, trying to track down where you were."

"Tony?"

"Yeah, Boss...McGee was stressed out, a bit snippy near the end there, but it wasn't anything like this. He wasn't angry or violent. He was just stressed because he was the one who had to hack into the website. Abby was snowed by everything else and couldn't help him out. We...started bickering a bit because I was feeling frustrated that there was nothing I could do, and he was worried about not being able to do what was needed."

"But he wasn't acting crazy?"

"No! Not at all...not until at the house."

"Okay. So...what happened at the house?"

"Vance took the front. I took the side door and McGee took the back. We all came in at once. Vance and I got our guys in the front room together. They were taken by surprise and had no chance to get their weapons. We arrested them right away. There was noise in the kitchen and I headed back there while Vance opened the box. Drew Arnold had been ready for McGee, apparently and they had wrestled a bit. McGee said that Arnold rammed him in the shoulder, pretty hard. He was fine until you guys left. Then, he totally lost it, yelling at Arnold, threatening him with his gun. ...but when Vance told him to back off, he did and he left when Vance told him to." Tony shrugged helplessly. "This...when he looked at me, he just looked wrong. I don't know if he was even really seeing me."

"What about the evidence you got? Anything to indicate something happened to him there?"

"I don't know...uh...Vance got Lovitz and company to come and go over the crime scene because we had people to transport and with McGee gone we weren't operating anywhere _near_ full strength. Maybe. I don't know."

The elevator dinged and Abby came up with a fiber optic snake camera.

"Here you go, Gibbs. It'll fit under the door to Vance's office."

"Good. Thanks. Abbs, what evidence did you get from the scene?"

"Lots of stuff, Gibbs."

"Specifics, Abby."

"Uh...there were the guns from the bad guys...uh...the money they had on hand. Drugs...uh...oh! I just remembered. I have a sample running right now from one of the injectors they stole."

"Why?" Tony asked. "We know what was in those. They all had atropine doses in them as antidotes for chemical warfare in the Middle East."

"Yeah, but this one was empty...and it wasn't from the rest of the injectors they stole. It was from the kitchen."

"Empty?" Gibbs asked.

"Yeah. Why?"

"McGee came through the kitchen," Tony said. "He fought with Arnold in the kitchen."

Tony started to stand but wobbled and fell back to the floor.

"Anthony, stay where you are. You're not ready to be running around. ...and neither are you, Jethro, to be perfectly frank."

"Who else is going to?"

"Lovitz?"

"He's not here. We can't wait for him to get here. That leaves us. We don't have time to talk to Arnold. Who knows what McGee is doing in Vance's office. Abby, when is that sample going to be done?"

"It'll be a while, Gibbs. Unless there's a lucky hit. There could be anything in there."

"Can you rule out atropine?"

"Sure. If that was what McGee got, though..."

"What?"

"Well, it's combined with Pralidoxime chloride as an antidote to organophosphate poisoning. ...and that wouldn't explain him being crazy! The dosage isn't high enough, and Pralidoxime doesn't have those side effects."

"What else could do it?"

"Whatever drugs they're selling, but there are lots of hallucinogens out there."

"What drugs were _they_ selling?" Gibbs asked.

"I don't know. I haven't tested them all yet. There was some Ecstasy, some LSD, some cocaine, crack. I mean...these guys were really well-connected. They had small samples of a lot of drugs. Major Mass Spec can only do so much at once, Gibbs!"

"Okay." Gibbs thought about what was best. He looked at Tony. "Is he going to be okay?" he asked Ducky.

"Yes, in a few hours, but not to leap into the fray."

"Hey! I'm fine!" Tony protested. "I just can't stand up yet."

"Exactly. We shouldn't leave him alone, just in case of something going wrong."

"All right. Ducky, go down and get Pamela and have her come and stay with Tony."

"What?" Tony complained.

Gibbs ignored him. "Then, come up to Vance's office. We're going to get that camera set up and we're going to see what's going on in there. I want your medical advice."

"Of course. Okay. Good."

Gibbs started heading up the stairs but Ducky, took hold of him and had him follow him to the elevator while Abby went back to her lab.

"What, Ducky?"

"I wish to offer one word of caution."

"What?"

"If Timothy _has_ gone crazy, be it from a mental breakdown or from drugs, remember that you can't...argue with him. You can't try to get him to see things your way. It won't work."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that insanity often can be understood as a whole different reality. What Timothy is doing does _not_ seem crazy to him. It seems logical and rational and trying to tell him otherwise won't help...especially if it's drug-induced because that means that he's not necessarily going to have some sort of ebbs and flows. He'll be like this for as long as the drug is in his system, for as long as the _trip_ lasts."

"I'm not giving up on him, Ducky. I had a friend who faced this kind of thing. I reached him."

"Because your friend was not under the influence of drugs and he was still moderately connected with reality. Someone was genuinely trying to kill him. That does not seem to be the case with Timothy and that means that there is a much higher risk of someone, including Timothy, being killed or seriously injured."

"I'll take the shot if I have to, Ducky. I know the rules...but if I don't have to, I'm not going to. If McGee _is_ on drugs right now, then he's as much a victim as Vance is. ...and if it's a mental breakdown, schizophrenia, whatever...then, he's _still_ a victim."

"And the perpetrator. Don't forget that. I little relish the thought of having to stop Timothy with violence, but it's happened before."

"I know. Get Pamela and meet us upstairs."

"Very well."

Gibbs and Ziva knelt beside the door, careful not to make any sound as they eased the camera beneath the door. There was no sound, but they could at least get a visual. Ziva adjusted the camera until Gibbs indicated that Tim had appeared on it...and Gibbs was appalled at what he was seeing. This was nothing like Will Ryan had been.

When Ducky joined them, he said nothing, only stared at the images confronting them all of Tim acting completely insane.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"McGee...why are you punching the wall?" Vance asked from his crouched position on the floor.

"You...you know... Of course you know! You're...It's all about you! It's ...has to be...and you...have to know. Yes, you know. You know. You know."

"Pretend that I don't."

Tim laughed again and looked toward his imaginary friends.

"He wants wants wants wants wants me to...to explain! Like he doesn't know! He knows! Should I–?" Tim jerked his head toward his shoulder as he listened. "Okay. Okay. Okay okay okay. You want to...to...yeah, I'm sure." He laughed again. "You...think that..."

Vance looked toward the door, hoping that no one had been killed out there. Then he noticed the tiny camera on the floor, pointing toward Tim. Someone was still alive and thinking out there. They needed to hear as much as possible. Carefully, he put his hand into his pocket and grabbed for his personal cell phone. He turned it on and felt for his keypad. Carefully, he dialed Gibbs' number, hoping that he was the one out there and hoping that he'd realize the need to keep silent. Then, while Tim was still talking to his imaginary friends, he pulled it out of his pocket and palmed it. As he stood up, he grabbed hold of the edge of his desk and stood up, steathily positioning the phone on the edge.

"Don't m-m-move!" Tim shouted.

"Okay. Why are you punching the wall, McGee?"

"It keeps keeps the monsters from your head...head...your head...away."

"How?" Vance asked, bypassing the much more interesting question which might unpack that loaded statement.

"Don't be stupid!" Tim shouted and fired off a few rounds at the window behind Vance. "Don't don't don't treat me me me like a stupid...like I'm...like an idiot! I know it's you!" Tim started with the wild gestures again, waving his arms (and consequently, both guns) around his head. "I watch...watch...watch your head head head split...and the monsters come out! Don't...don't pretend you don't know! Know! No! It's not! No. No. No. They hide in the wall! They come out!" He whirled around and shot the wall behind him. "I won't let them get me! They have to stop!" His head started twitching violently. "You have to stop...stop...stop opening your head!"

Vance decided that this was by far the strangest thing he'd ever been accused of in his entire life...but with Tim's crazy declarations, and his guns, he couldn't laugh...even though a part of him really wanted to.

"Okay. I can try, but I don't know that I'm doing it, McGee."

Tim began shaking his head, laughing but looking furious at the same time. "Don't...lie! Lie...you lie...and lies and they come...lie and lie... You lie and stand pulling opening your head...head like...like oranges and...then close and you lie! Liar!" He went back to the wall and began punching it again. By this time, he had broken through the skin and was bleeding...but while Vance winced every time, Tim didn't even seem to feel it.

"Go away!" he screamed. "Go away! Get off me!"

Tim started shooting again, but this time not pointing it anywhere in particular, just all around. Vance ducked to the floor again, trying to avoid the bullets now flying.

"NO!"

Vance hissed in pain as he felt a flash of fire on his arm. He clapped his other hand over the wound and found it rather fitting that when Tim had actually been _aiming_ at him, Tim had missed. It was only when he was shooting at things that weren't there that he could hit Vance.

_Figures,_ he thought in irritation. It hurt, but it didn't seem to be serious. Tim's condition on the other hand appeared to be deteriorating rapidly...but while there were still bullets in the gun, he didn't dare try to subdue Tim for fear of getting himself killed.

"They won't go away!" Tim screamed. "They won't go away! Stop stop stop stop!"

Then, suddenly, Tim looked at Vance, breathing heavily.

"They're coming from you! They're coming from you!" he screamed...and pulled both guns around and pointed them right at Vance's head. "Kill the head...no no no no more monsters! Kill it!"

Vance looked into Tim's eyes and saw nothing human in them. There was nothing he could appeal to in order to stop this from happening.

_Of all the places I thought I could die...this wasn't even on the list,_ he thought and resigned himself to dying. No one got to pick how they died, but it still sucked.

"I don't want to die, McGee," he said aloud.

Tim didn't respond.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

There was little to say as Gibbs and Ziva watched Tim stride around, screaming insanely and talking to people who weren't there. Gibbs had his phone on speaker so that they could hear the broadcast from Vance's phone, and it wasn't making them feel any better. About half an hour into it, Tony crept up from the bullpen (_not_ dragging Pamela along) and watched.

"That's more what he was like...only not so loud," Tony whispered.

Ducky also kept his voice low. "So there was no gradual increase."

"Not that I saw. He was fine and then, after Gibbs and Ziva left, he went nuts. I mean...he wasn't this bad, but he was bad. I think he would have killed Arnold if no one else had been there."

"My guess, Jethro," Ducky said finally, "is that this is not a psychological condition but is drug-induced. However, the violence of his reactions and his agitation and paranoia, coupled with the schizophrenia-like symptoms...that rules out many of the hallucinogens."

"So what's left?"

"In large enough doses, possibly atropine, PCP, perhaps ketamine, LSD could produce the hallucinations, but not this paranoia and agitation. Perhaps mixed with something else."

"What kind of danger are they both in?"

"Quite a bit. This kind of reaction...Timothy must have a life-threatening dose in his system. ...and he seems to think of Director Vance as a threat. That means he may indeed kill him."

"What do we do, Gibbs?" Ziva asked, clearly begging him to find some other answer than bursting in and killing Tim.

Gibbs looked at Ziva, at Ducky and at Tony, now displaying a deepening bruise on the side of his face from where Tim had hit him. Then, he looked at the screen, listened to Tim's incoherent screaming.

...and he pulled out his gun.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim clearly intended to shoot him, but as he prepared to do so, he began to twitch again. ...but this time, the twitching became much more violent. Tim's entire body began to convulse, his eyes rolled up in his head and he fell to the floor, both guns falling from his hands as the seizure spread and worsened. Instantly, Vance got to his feet, ran to Tim's side, kicked the guns out of the way and pushed chairs out of reach of Tim's now-flailing limbs. His breathing changed and became louder, more erratic and then, the seizure stopped. Everything was silent for just a moment before Tim's eyes reopened. He took one look at Vance and the insanity returned.

This was his only chance. Vance knew that if he allowed Tim to get away from him now, everything would start over again. So he ignored his bleeding arm and threw himself on top of Tim, holding him down with every bit of strength he possessed.

Tim began to growl. Involuntarily, Vance looked into his eyes...and wished he hadn't. Close to, Tim looked even more frightening that he had with the safety of distance. His eyes, his flushed face, his contorted features... Tim was terrifying. He also seemed to have been granted superhuman strength. Vance was hard-pressed to keep him under control.

"Kill, kill kill kill you!" Tim ground out and began to scream again.

"Get in here!" Vance shouted at the door. "And don't shoot when you do!"

He had less than ten seconds to wait and the door burst open, revealing Gibbs, Ziva and Ducky. Vance spared a moment to worry about where Tony might be but then saw him behind them and turned his attention back on trying to keep Tim from getting away.

"Help me hold him down!" Vance ordered. "...and don't bring your guns. He's liable to get a hold of one of them."

Gibbs and Ziva instantly obeyed and Vance was relieved when he wasn't the only one trying to stop Tim from escaping. There was a vein bulging out on Tim's forehead and what little coherence he'd had before was lost as he increased his attempts to get away. He couldn't fight against three people, even three people who weren't at their peak ability. His shouting and screaming continued, but the words lost all meaning becoming mere syllables uttered in between gasps for breath.

"Call for an ambulance!" Vance said, not looking away from Tim.

He heard Ducky relaying his order.

"Anthony, for goodness sake, you can barely stand up. You'll be of no help in here. Call for help and tell them that Timothy is suffering from a drug-induced psychosis."

"Drug-induced?" Vance panted.

"Yes, it seems extremely likely," Ducky said, speaking over Tim's continued screams and shouts.

"What drug?"

"That we don't know."

"We do now!" Abby shouted, running into the room. "I found PCP, atropine and Pralidoxime. Heavier concentration of PCP."

"Oh, dear. We need to get him to a hospital as soon as possible then. There's nothing we can do for him here."

Tim suddenly found his words again.

"Get them off me! Get them off me!" he shrieked. "Off off off off off off off off! Crawling..crawling..no! No! Stop! Kill you! Die! Off!"

"Tim?" Abby said, shocked at what she was seeing but then she hurried over. "Let me help."

"Abigail..."

"I'm not a little kid, Ducky! Let me help."

"Very well. Director, you seem to be bleeding."

Vance nodded. "Bullet graze."

"Abigail, take his place and hold Timothy down. Do not go easy on him. He won't appreciate it. He'll only hurt you or himself. Understand?"

Abby nodded and knelt down beside Vance. She leaned over Tim's chest and grabbed one arm. Tim arched his back as Vance let go and another growl escaped from his throat.

"His head! His head! Stop his head! Open open open open!"

Abby almost lost hold of his arm in her surprise at Tim's voice, but she redoubled her grip and actually laid across his torso, forcing his back to straighten again. When he looked into Abby's eyes, there was no recognition really, only insanity. She understood what Ducky meant by not going easy on him. This wasn't Tim she was seeing. It was a stranger looking out of Tim's eyes.

Then, Tim began to convulse again.

"Let him go!" Ducky ordered. "Don't try to stop the seizure!"

Abby, Gibbs and Ziva released Tim and watched in fear as his arms and legs flailed, his body rigid, eyeballs rolling back in his head. It stopped suddenly and for a few blissful seconds, there was silence in the room. Blessed silence, except for Tim's heavy breathing. ...but then, as he had before, Tim tried to get away from them again. He almost succeeded, and probably would have, but Vance and Ducky were a bit quicker on the uptake than the others were. They lunged at Tim just as he started to move, throwing him back to the floor.

No more silence.

"Monsters in the walls...coming...out...you...stop...stop...st..kill! No! Stop...yes, you die...now, now...let go! Let go! Let go! Let go!" He screeched and his hands pulled back into claws as he struggled to free himself.

"Watch his hands, Abigail," Ducky warned, the five of them now holding Tim to the floor.

Abby moved quickly, just managing to avoid getting scratched.

"Come on, Tim. You've got to be in there somewhere!" she begged.

"He can't hear you, Abigail," Ducky said firmly and grabbed Tim's head, forcing it to the floor as well, keeping him from jerking up and hurting himself by hitting it against the hard floor.

Tony came in, leading the EMTs.

"They're here," he said unnecessarily as the two EMTs quickly assessed the situation and started issuing instructions.

"Okay. We need to get him onto the stretcher and strapped down."

"No no no no no no no no no...no you can't...can't...won't let...can't no! Help!"

"You, you and you," one EMT said, pointing to Gibbs, Ziva and Abby, "when we say, you're going to take his legs and move them onto the stretcher. Got it?"

They nodded.

"Good."

The two EMTs knelt down where Ducky and Vance were holding Tim down and moved them out of the way while still keeping Tim pinned to the floor. Over Tim's inarticulate and incoherent screaming, they talked to each other, positioned themselves to lift Tim's torso and then nodded to Gibbs, Abby and Ziva.

"Now!"

They lifted, but lifting a struggling person is much more difficult than simply holding them down. Gibbs took a hard kick to the shoulder that almost knocked him over and Abby got a shot to the face from Tim's knee. But they managed to get him to the stretcher.

"Hold him down. We'll get him strapped in."

Within moments, Tim was immobilized...although that fact did not stop him from trying to get away.

"Head...head...head... Get off! Crawling crawling crawling crawling...no, you know...told you...can't...no."

"Any physical injuries?"

Vance nodded. "He was punching the wall, broke the skin if not the bones."

"Are you sure it's PCP he took?"

"He didn't _take_ anything," Abby said. "He was forced...by the people they arrested today."

"Was it PCP?"

"That's what was in the syringe on the floor where he was. None of us saw it happen," Tony admitted. "Only _he_ did...and the guy who did it."

"All right. We'll get him to the hospital and run some tests. If it _is_ PCP..." He didn't finish. They just rolled Tim out of the office, still screaming at the top of his lungs, threatening murder, talking about being attacked, hurt, crawled on by unnamed monstrosities.

Once they were out of the building, those left behind sat or stood where they were, the utter silence a welcome change from what had come before. Gibbs and Ziva both looked absolutely exhausted. Tony was still wobbly. Vance's graze was painful, and Abby had a broken tooth from Tim's flailing knee.

Tony was the first to have something to say.

"Wow."

"Yeah," Abby agreed, nodding.

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"McGee is...a lot stronger than I thought he was."

"It wasn't Timothy," Ducky said. "PCP acts as a pain suppressor. The strength you saw was simply what Timothy could do because his brain did not acknowledge the signals from his nociceptors indicating that he should stop his actions."

"I've never seen anyone like that before," Abby said. "Never."

"Nor have I," Ziva said softly.

More silence...but Tony was again the one to break it.

"What now?" Tony asked.

"Well, I see at least two people who should be checked out in the ER," Ducky said, looking pointedly at Tony and Vance. "I see two other people who should rest...and one young lady who will need an appointment with a dentist."

"What?"

"Your tooth, my dear," Ducky said, pointing to the piece of it which lay on the floor.

Abby looked down and groaned. "No! I've always had perfect teeth!" She lisped a little as she spoke. "Great."

Gibbs and Ziva didn't try to protest that they needed a rest. This was way more than they had planned on doing today...but Gibbs wasn't ready to stop just yet. He pushed himself to his feet.

"Still got one thing to do."

"What, Jethro?" Ducky asked in exasperation.

"Gotta find out what that guy gave McGee...how much he gave him. They'll need to know that at the hospital. You get Vance and Tony to the ER. Abby you go with them. Ziva and I'll find out what Arnold gave McGee and then...take a break."

"Jethro...they have tests at the hospital they can run."

"Tests take time," Gibbs said. "Ziva?"

Ziva took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes, Gibbs." She stood up and followed him out.

"I rather thought you might try to disagree, Director," Ducky observed.

"I thought about it...but not only would it be pointless, getting another team in here now...what time _is_ it anyway?"

"About three a.m."

"Getting even Geri Weaver, who's closest, in here right now would take longer than it'll take Gibbs and David to break Arnold. He talked tough, and he was definitely in charge, but he's no match for them, not even like this." Vance winced as he moved his arm...and then he swore.

"What's wrong, Director?"

"How did we miss this?" Vance asked, angry at himself. "McGee was acting completely out of character earlier today. ...and I sent him back here. I ordered my agent who was under the influence of drugs to _drive _back to NCIS."

"You can't blame yourself."

"Oh, yes, I can. ...and I'm angry that I missed it." Then, Vance sighed and smiled. "...and I'm even more upset that I forgot to tell Jackie I was going to be home late tonight."

Abby let out a sudden relieved laugh. "I guess we should get to the hospital, then?"

"Right. Abigail, if you would help Anthony."

"I can stand," Tony insisted and did get to his feet himself, but then he listed a bit to the side and Abby smiled as she put a supporting arm around his waist.

"I got you, Tony. Let's go."

The four of them made their awkward way out of Vance's office and to the hospital.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"You up for this, Ziva?" Gibbs asked, knowing they were both exhausted and neither at their best.

"I would not miss it. I suppose we will not be allowed to beat him?"

Gibbs smiled.

"No...unless he resists."

"I hope he does," she said, glaring.

"Well, let's go and find out."

Together, Gibbs and Ziva walked into Interrogation. Drew Arnold actually smiled when he saw who it was.

"You're looking well," he said, pleasantly.

Ziva smiled back. "You are not."

"Wouldn't this be considered conflict of interest, for the victims to interview the perpetrator?"

"You're not denying it?"

"What do I gain by trying? You both lived and you both saw me. I was arrested at the scene." He settled back. "What deal are you going to offer for my cooperation?"

"We're not interested," Gibbs said shortly. "We're not here about kidnapping federal agents. We're not even here about your drug dealing. That's a whole different issue."

For the first time, Arnold allowed a look of confusion to cross his face.

"Then, what?"

"Attempted murder of a federal law enforcement officer. That puts you in a whole other category for sentencing," Gibbs said.

"What?"

"Minimum sentence is what?" Ziva asked Gibbs.

"Hmmm...last I heard was ten years...to life."

"Oh, but this happened in Maryland, didn't it," Ziva observed.

"Three strikes," Gibbs said with a smile. "How many times you been in prison, Arnold?"

Ziva grinned at him. "Mandatory life sentence for attempted murder of a federal agent...no possibility of parole?"

"I didn't try to kill anyone!" he protested, all bravado gone.

"You didn't?" Gibbs looked at Ziva. "He didn't try to kill anyone. I guess he thought that Agent McGee's reaction to the PCP would be just like a walk in the park."

"Yes, he must have thought he was _helping_. Is that it, Mr. Arnold?" Ziva asked.

"I wasn't trying to kill him!" Arnold said loudly.

"Then, _what were you doing when you overdosed him_?" Gibbs demanded, suddenly losing all presentation of humor. "What did you think you were doing to him?"

"It was a distraction! It was supposed to work faster than it did! He'd go off on his little trip and I'd get away!"

"Oh, so that makes it okay, does it?" Gibbs asked.

"It wasn't even for him...if you'd all just stayed out of the way."

Ziva laughed incredulously and spoke to Gibbs again. "Oh, it is _our_ fault that we were shut up in a small space for two days. It is _McGee's_ fault that he was nearly killed by this man." She looked at Arnold. "I am certain that the jury will be sympathetic to you saying that it was your arresting officers' faults, not yours for committing the crime."

"Hey! That's not what I meant!" Arnold said. "If you guys had waited, you would have got my partners tripped out on PCP, not some federal agent."

"What do you mean?"

Now, Arnold smiled, a kind of chummy smile that made Gibbs want to punch his face in. "Why split the money three ways when you can split it only one?"

"You were planning on double-crossing your partners?"

"Not partners. Employees. They were the ones who were stupid enough to grab you two. I just made it work to our advantage. If I had been there at the outset, you wouldn't have been taken. I would have let you walk by, not having a clue. I was already ready to get rid of them, but the rest of you guys had to show up and screw up my plans. I adapted. The guy in the kitchen got the dose instead, but it wouldn't have killed him!"

"How much did you give him?"

"I don't know. I was in a hurry when I heard them coming at us. I emptied out the injector loaded it up."

"Both cylinders?"

"Both? There was only supposed to be one!"

"There are two drugs kept in those injectors, you idiot!" Ziva said, standing up and leaning across the table. "You stole them and you did not even _look_ at them?"

"I looked!"

Ziva stormed around the table and got in Arnold's face. "Which one did you empty?"

"I thought there was only _one_!"

"Was it large or small?"

"Pretty big...I guess."

Gibbs stood up. "If Agent McGee dies, Mr. Arnold, I'll see to it that you never see the light of day. There's no deal."

Arnold stood up as well. "Hey, I answered your questions! I didn't demand to have my lawyer present! I played ball with you!"

Gibbs, unlike Ziva, walked slowly around the table and didn't stop until he was less than an inch from Arnold. "We don't play ball with murderers. You'd better hope Agent McGee survives, because if you killed a federal agent, you'll get the death penalty. Count on it."

Ziva and Gibbs both left Arnold in the room.

"Gibbs?" Ziva asked.

"If he filled that injector all the way..."

"What?"

"Those injectors hold about 600 mg of Pralidoxime and 3 mg of atropine. If he filled up the Pralidoxime cylinder..."

"What is an overdose of PCP?" Ziva asked.

"I don't know, but I'm guessing that's way past overdose."

"How far past?" Ziva asked.

Gibbs just shook his head and walked away, pulling out his phone as he did so...and wondering, now, if there was any point.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky and Vance went to talk to Tim's doctor as soon as they could. Abby had promised to stay with Tony until he was allowed to go.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Stapleton. You're wanting to know about Timothy McGee?"

"Yes, how is he?" Ducky asked.

"Come and see for yourself." Dr. Stapleton led Vance and Ducky to Tim's room. His screaming could be heard before they reached the window.

"He has not improved."

"No. We're still waiting on the blood tests, but PCP doesn't stay in the blood very long. It buries itself throughout the body and only leaves gradually. When would you say that he was dosed?"

Vance thought back. It seemed forever ago. "It was...probably around five p.m."

"And he attacked when?"

"It was...after eleven, I think."

"Six hours? Are you sure?"

"Yes. The only time he could have been given the injection was during the arrests we made. And he came to my office while I was on the phone."

"And he had no lessening of his symptoms the entire time he was in your office?"

"No. If anything they got worse."

"Worse," Dr. Stapleton repeated.

"Why?" Vance asked.

"Because I would not have expected the trip to last so long. Is there any reason you know of that might have changed your time estimates?"

Ducky looked at Tim, screaming at nothing, straining to get free of the restraints holding him to the bed.

"Abigail did say that she found traces of atropine and Pralidoxime in the same syringe."

Dr. Stapleton rubbed an anxious hand over his bald spot. "Not good. This is way beyond any experience I've had. I know of no case where a person has been given or intentionally taken drugs in that combination. There's no telling what atropine and PCP could do to each other. They could synergize, exacerbate the effects of either drug...and Pralidoxime? Why those drugs?"

Ducky's phone rang and he stepped aside with an apology, talking in a low voice as Vance answered Dr. Stapleton's questions.

"The injector was from a Navy shipment going to the Middle East. It was part of a shipment of remodeled ATNAAs."

"Antidotes."

"Yeah."

"Any idea of the dosage? After so much time, it'll be almost impossible to tell with the blood tests."

"No. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry," Vance said, looking at Tim. He shook his head.

"All right," Dr. Stapleton said, nodding. "We'll just have to do our best. It's risky to treat people without knowing all the drugs in their system. We'll see what there is of the drugs and go from there."

Ducky rejoined them, his phone to his ear. "We may have some idea of how much Timothy was given."

"Really?" Vance asked.

"Jethro finished his interrogation. He says that the man they spoke to, the one who assaulted Timothy had emptied one of the cylinders in the injector, the larger one and filled it with PCP. He didn't know if he had filled it full, but if he did, he put 600 mg of PCP in there, along with nearly 3 mg of atropine."

Dr. Stapleton shook his head. "Impossible. Agent McGee would be dead if he'd been given that much. People have died from taking 200 mg. Six hundred? No way."

"I will bow to your greater experience. Given this information, that the dose was likely very large, no matter its actual number, what will be the treatment?"

"We can only treat the symptoms. There is no antidote for PCP. We have a couple of options to consider. I'll give them to you now and you can decide on our next course of action."

"Okay. Shoot," Vance said.

"The first option is to aggressively treat all the individual symptoms with benzodiazepines to stop the aggressive behavior and any seizure activity, with drugs for hypertension, cooling if his temperature raises too high, possibly barbiturates to calm him down and continue with this course until enough of the drug filters from his system that he can be counted on to remain rational."

"What is the other option?"

"Deep sedation and endotracheal intubation for up to four days. We will monitor his physical status but we won't have the issue of dealing with his aggression and agitation."

Ducky and Vance looked at each other.

"Is there any chance that these options will change based on the blood tests?"

"Not really. The atropine is probably long gone by now. Same with the Pralidoxime. It's the PCPs we'll have to worry about, and with the drug combination, there's no way of telling whether they'll be removed faster or slower. With high doses of PCPs, it can take days for the symptoms to fade completely."

"What's your recommendation?" Vance asked.

"Considering the violence of his reaction, I would recommend sedation. It will make it easier for us to treat his other symptoms and will possibly keep his blood pressure at a non-lethal level." Dr. Stapleton looked down the hall and nodded at the two men. "If you'll excuse me for just a moment. This might be the results of Agent McGee's tests."

"What do you think, Dr. Mallard?"

"I have no experience with this, Director."

"Nor do I. That wasn't what I was asking. Someone has to make the decision and it can't be McGee, obviously."

"I can't deny that seeing Timothy asleep, even unconscious, rather than raving, is a tempting image. I would go along with Dr. Stapleton's recommendation."

"All right. Who _is_ his emergency medical contact?"

"I believe Jethro and myself are both listed."

"Good. We'll go with your decision. If there's any trouble from that, I'll be sure to register my agreement."

Ducky smiled. "We're not in a court of law, nor in front of Congress, Director. No one will protest."

"Always cover your bases, Dr. Mallard, even if you don't think you'll need to."

"What a view you must have of the world."

"You have no idea."

Dr. Stapleton rejoined them. "No surprises in his test results, thanks to your information," he said, nodding to Ducky. "Have you decided?"

"Yes. We will follow your recommendation for sedation."

"All right. We'll get started right away. The sooner his body can start to recover from all this, the better it will be for him."

Ducky nodded fervently.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Look, Abby, I feel fine now," Tony said. "McGee is the one with the problems. He didn't hit me that hard."

"You're being such a baby, Tony," Abby said. "_I_ have to go and see my dentist and probably get a _crown_ tomorrow! Do you know how much crowns cost? Do you know how long I've gone without _any_ tooth problems? Just let them look you over and then we can go!"

"Fine, fine."

The nurse came in and smiled at Tony as she fussed over him for a few minutes.

"Okay, you've got a minor concussion, Mr. DiNozzo, but you should be right as rain in a couple of days. Take it easy tonight and if you develop a sudden headache or anything like that, come back in. Understand?"

"Yeah, I understand. Can I go?"

"Of course!" She paused for a moment and then grinned. "We need the bed."

Tony rolled his eyes and got up. Abby led him out of the room and they decided to find out where Tim had been taken.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Going...go go go going to kill you! Have to stop!" Tim shrieked as Vance and Ducky came in with Dr. Stapleton and the nurses. He looked to the side, struggling to get free. "They are...are are are...yeah, I know. I know. I can see it. It's coming...you...stop your head! Let me go!"

Dr. Stapleton spoke to Tim, ignoring his crazy statements.

"Agent McGee, we've given you lorazepam to combat your convulsions and now propofol to sedate you and allow the PCP to filter from your system. You'll be under sedation for a few days."

"Keep on...keep it...never...won't let you...and you can't..." Tim laughed. "No...no..you can't...off off off off off off!"

"Don't worry about a thing, Agent McGee." Dr. Stapleton nodded to the nurse and she administered the propofol into Tim's IV.

He began screaming inarticulately, but the screams faded after less than a minute. His eyes closed, but his body remained tense. He twitched every second or two and his eyelids fluttered briefly.

"He's fighting the sedation. It may take a little bit longer than normal to put him out completely. Once he's sedated, we'll intubate and then monitor his condition."

Ducky sat down beside Tim and put a gentle hand on his forehead. If Tim had been able to move, he would have been tossing and turning, letting out soft sounds with each exhalation.

"It's all right, lad. It's all right. Just relax."

Tim's eyes opened briefly with a twitch. He looked at Ducky and then his eyes closed again.

"Sssstop...ooooooffffff...Duuuuu...nnnnnnoooo..."

"Sleep, Timothy. Just sleep."

The twitching continued for another two minutes but then, Tim's eyes closed and didn't open. His body relaxed and he was down for the count. Instantly, Dr. Stapleton moved in to intubate and it took very little time for Tim to be hooked up to the ventilator and the EKG. Tim's absolute stillness was almost strange to see after the mania that had colored all his previous actions.

By the time Abby and Tony came to see Tim, he had been sedated for ten minutes. Ducky was sitting quietly beside him; Vance was out in the hallway talking to Dr. Stapleton.

"Is he okay?" Abby asked.

"He's sedated," Vance said. "We just have to wait now."

"Can we go in?" Tony asked.

Dr. Stapleton nodded. "Go ahead."

"Thanks."

They both hurried into the room. Vance watched as Abby hugged Ducky tightly and then forced Tony to sit on a chair rather than stand.

"So...days?" Vance asked.

"Yes. At least three, maybe four depending on his progress."

"If I leave my number would someone call me when you decide to bring him out of it?"

"Of course."

"Thank you." Vance sighed and shook his head. "Happy Saturday..."

Dr. Stapleton chuckled. "Sounds like you all have had a busy and exciting day."

"Yeah. ...one that put my entire MCRT out of commission. I don't know if that's _ever_ happened before."

"No one has died, sir," Dr. Stapleton said. "Many of the deaths due to PCPs don't come from the drug itself but from what the intoxicated person does while under the influence of it. Count yourselves lucky that everyone has survived."

"Will McGee?"

"There's still a chance that he won't, but it's not likely. He's under our care and we can take care of the more serious symptoms when they arrive. He'll be under constant supervision until he's recovered. You have my word."

"Thank you." Vance looked at his watch. Four in the morning. He'd had a message from Jackie and had called her, letting her know that she shouldn't expect him anytime soon. He yawned. "Well, the agency isn't going to run itself. Thank you, Dr. Stapleton."

"It's my job, Director Vance."

Vance nodded, looked into the room once more. Satisfied that Tim was in the best possible hands, he headed back to NCIS, hoping that Gibbs and Ziva would be gone...preferably home to rest, but at least on their way back here.

Even if Tim wouldn't have any idea that he had so many visitors, it would be good for him to have the support.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

For the next few days, Tim had an endless stream of people sitting by his bed, talking to him, talking _about_ him, and hoping that he would wake up and be okay again. Sometimes, it seemed more likely than others. On the first day, his blood pressure was so high that the doctors were forced to give him nitroprusside to control it. Thankfully, it worked and they were able to feel some relief. With Tim completely sedated, they were able to x ray and then splint his hand after it was revealed that he'd managed to break two bones in his assault on the wall in Vance's office. On the second day, a complete urinalysis was done, along with tests of renal function, CPK levels and other tests showed that Tim had, indeed, received a very high dose of PCP but that it was slowly being flushed from his system. Dr. Stapleton figured that it would take a week at the very least for reactions to the drug to fade and possibly as long as two weeks. However, he did feel that it would be safe to bring Tim out of sedation after four days as originally planned.

It was just a matter of waiting.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The first thing Tim noticed was that he felt absolutely terrible. He felt as though someone had mistaken his body for a two-by-four and had pounded it with hundreds of rusty nails. ...but on second thought, he decided that was a horrible comparison. For one thing, it didn't make any sense. The second thing he noticed was a feeling of a void in his memory, a great black box holding...what? ...but like that belonging to Pandora, he felt that he didn't really want to open it and find out what was in there.

_It's dark._

_Why is it dark?_

_Because my eyes are closed._

That much decided, Tim struggled to open his eyes, but it took too much effort to breathe and to blink at the same time and he couldn't manage it. He subsided and decided that breathing was more important.

Suddenly, his skin was crawling as if there were hundreds, if not thousands, of bugs crawling just beneath the epidermis. He couldn't think of what to do and there wasn't enough breath in his lungs to scream. ...so he whimpered. He tried to move but he couldn't, couldn't get away from the bugs on him.

"Shh. It's all right, Timothy. Calm down."

Tim tried to get the bugs off, but he couldn't seem to move his arms. He continued to whimper, but then, he felt a hand on his forehead and another taking hold of his own hand.

"Don't worry. You're okay."

"Just sleep. You'll be fine."

The sensations faded and Tim let himself fall back into the sleep recommended by the disembodied voice he heard.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim came awake again in the darkness and he thought he could open his eyes this time. He tried...and succeeded.

Briefly.

"McGee?"

Tim sifted through his memories to attach a face to the voice. When he succeeded, his eyes opened again, quickly...but still closed after a few seconds.

"Director...what...are you...doing wherever I am?"

"You're in a hospital, McGee."

Tim struggled to open his eyes once more. This time, they stayed open as narrow slits.

"Why? ...did I get shot? Is that why I feel so crappy?" Tim asked. "At the house...did I lose the wrestling match?"

Vance chuckled. "Well...you did get shot...sort of."

"What does that mean?"

"You were drugged, McGee."

"Drugged?" Tim repeated, managing to get his eyes open all the way. "How? I didn't... Wouldn't I have noticed?"

"No, because Arnold was pretty sneaky. He used one of the injectors they stole and dosed you when he hit you."

"Oh." Tim blinked a few times, trying to keep his eyes from closing again. "What did he give me?"

"The big thing was the PCP, but there was some atropine and Pralidoxime as well."

"He gave me the antidote?"

"Not exactly. He says he emptied out the Pralidoxime, but he didn't get it all out. He filled that cylinder up with PCP."

"PCP...wow. I've...I've heard about PCP trips...you know...health class and stuff, but...I don't remember...did I do anything?"

"You did quite a bit," Vance said. Tim caught a smile before his eyes rebelled once more and the lids fell. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Tim stopped trying to open his eyes and thought back.

"Uh...We found where Gibbs and Ziva were being held. We went to the house. I took the back." Tim thought some more. "I had to wrestle Drew Arnold because it was like he was ready for me. ...and..." Tim realized that his memory got dramatically fuzzier after that very clear memory. "...and...I...was...angry."

"At whom?"

"Arnold...because he...I don't know why. I was..." Tim flushed.

"What, McGee?"

"I was...kind of miffed at you and Tony, too...but I don't know why I was. I mean, I was mad before but..."

"You were?" Vance sounded surprised. "About what?"

"You guys telling me to work faster...but I understood. You were worried just like I was."

"But you were mad about it?"

"A little. Why?" Tim opened his eyes. "Did I–? I didn't...did I?"

"What?"

"I remember drawing my gun on Arnold. Did I kill him?" Tim asked, now afraid of that blank spot in his memory.

"No, McGee. You didn't. You only yelled at him."

Tim sighed in relief. "Good. I'm glad. Gibbs and Ziva...they're okay, right?"

"Yes. They're fine. Much better after their weekend off."

"Weekend?"

"It's been five days since we went to that house."

Again, Tim's eyes widened. "Five _days_?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"You've been sedated so that the drug could be filtered from your system. No antidote for PCP. They took you off that yesterday. You woke up once."

Vague memories from before came to his mind. "Bugs..." he said grimacing and shuddering at the feeling.

"Those are lingering effects of the PCP. You'll probably have some minor things like that for the next week."

"Week?"

"You got enough PCP that you could have died of an overdose."

"Um...sir?"

"Yes?"

Tim forced his eyes open once more. "No offense...but why is that _you're _here telling me? Did I kill someone?" Then, Tim felt a sudden panic. "You said I didn't kill Arnold. Did I kill someone else? Director..." Tim tried to sit up but he couldn't and then he noticed the restraints. "Director...did I kill someone? Did I kill...one of the team? Or...or–?" Tim started feeling panicky...and the creepy, crawly feeling of bugs under his skin came over him again. He rubbed at himself as much as he could.

Vance leaned forward, took hold of Tim's hands and carefully pushed them to the side.

"McGee, you didn't kill anyone. I promise."

"What did I do?" Tim asked, still feeling frantic.

"Okay, you need to calm down. Keeping calm will keep you from suffering from more of the PCP's effects. I swear that no one was killed. There is a reason why I'm here, though, and it's because we couldn't be sure how much you remembered...and if you did remember anything, you'd want to see me first."

"Why?"

"Because you threatened me a number of times, and you were seeing some crazy things in my office that night."

"Like what?"

"Monsters coming out of the walls...and out of my head."

"What?" Tim was mortified. "Did I...Did I hurt you?"

"Yes," Vance said matter-of-factly. "I got a bullet graze, but you weren't aiming at me at the time. You were trying to shoot the walls. I just got in the way of that."

Tim dropped his head in humiliation. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry. I'm not angry. You're not in trouble. We figured that if you remembered anything, it might have been threatening to kill me...and with all the drugs in your system, you might think you had actually done it. Since you didn't..."

"But I hurt you."

"You did, but not on purpose, not even with the intention borne out of insanity. So don't worry about that."

"Did I hurt anyone else?"

"Yes."

"Oh, no..."

Vance just smiled sympathetically. "Take a deep breath and stay calm. No one was seriously injured. You frightened us, but we were a lot more afraid _for_ you than we were _of_ you."

"Why am I still tied down then?"

"That was a precaution. Your reaction on your previous awakening was pretty violent and so they tightened the restraints in case no one was directly on hand when you woke up again. Since you're clearly in your right mind, the restraints will be removed. I know you don't like it, McGee. No one would, but it was necessary in the beginning."

Tim nodded, although he hated knowing that he had been so crazy that they'd had to tie him down in order to keep people safe.

"What else did I do?"

"McGee..."

"Please, Director? I'll have to know eventually."

"True. Okay. I'll tell you, but you need to stay calm. All right?"

"I'll try," Tim said honestly. ...but he could already feel an edge of panic at the thought of having injured his friends and coworkers.

"Try," Vance said, smiling. "You punched Tony in the face. He has a nice bruise but you didn't break anything."

Tim groaned.

"Remember?"

"Right. Okay. Go on?"

"You managed to knee Ms. Sciuto...Abby...in the face and broke one of her teeth. She had to get a crown."

"She's going to kill me for breaking her teeth."

"She might crack your ribs from hugging you, but I highly doubt she'll kill you."

"She might..."

"And you kicked Gibbs in the shoulder at the same time."

Tim closed his eyes and moaned out of sheer embarrassment. "I'm going to get fired! Gibbs'll make me regret I survived! I'm going to..."

"Agent McGee, you are not fired. I said already that everyone has been worried, not angry."

"I can't believe I did all that! I don't remember anything! I...I shouldn't...I don't..."

"Calm down, Tim," Vance repeated patiently. "Just take a breath."

Tim breathed in deeply.

"Better?"

"No," Tim said shaking his head. "I can't face them. I can't... This is _terrible_!"

"It wasn't your fault, Tim. You could no more have controlled your actions than you could have flown. Look at your right hand."

"What?"

"Look at your right hand."

Tim looked down and saw that his right hand was enclosed in a hard splint.

"Is this from punching Tony?"

"No. Not even DiNozzo is that hard-headed. This is from you punching the wall in my office repeatedly...to keep the monsters from attacking you."

Tim looked at Vance. "How is that?"

"Don't ask me. That's what I managed to understand from what you said. People on PCP trips have committed suicide because of their hallucinations. You were a much bigger danger to yourself than you were to anyone else."

"I'm not sure that makes me feel any better."

"I'm not sure that it should, but it's true. Now, you just wait a minute and I'll see about getting those restraints removed."

"Okay."

Vance walked out of the room and Tim took the opportunity of momentary solitude to look around. The room was dimly-lit and, except for the restraints on the bed, looked like a normal hospital room. All those things he had done...and he had no idea. So that was what the black box he'd thought of before was holding. He certainly didn't think he posed a danger now. He felt so weak that he wasn't even sure he could stand up, let alone hurt anyone. ...and in spite of his fear, he recognized that he had no desire to hurt anyone now.

He knew all that, but knowing what he _had_ done in the past made him dread seeing the others. Vance was bad enough...but Gibbs? Tony? _Abby_? How could he face them knowing that he'd hurt them all? The bugs under his skin came back and he began rubbing his legs

"Not there. Not really there. Just imagination. That's all," Tim said to himself as he closed his eyes again, clenching his teeth against the feeling he couldn't suppress.

"Agent McGee, take a deep breath."

The voice was unfamiliar.

"I'm Dr. Stapleton. I've been in charge of your case. Now, you're having another episode?"

Tim nodded and managed a whimpered, "Uh-huh."

"Okay." His voice was calm and soothing. "Now, this is something that we expect, along with the possibility for vivid nightmares and perhaps some intense emotional surges. These will all fade to nothing in the next few days. For the time being, just breathe through it. The sensation will leave in a few moments. The more you can keep yourself calm, the better you'll feel. Understand?"

Tim nodded again.

"Good. Just keep breathing."

As he promised, Tim did feel the bugs leaving. When they were gone, he opened his eyes and looked at his doctor, knowing it must not be the first time, but seeing a complete stranger.

"Hello, Agent McGee. I'm Dr. Stapleton. Nice to meet you."

"Uh...thanks. Likewise. ...can I _not_ be tied down?"

Dr. Stapleton smiled and nodded. "Yes. I'll remove the restraints right now. Things are progressing as I'd hoped they would, perhaps even slightly faster. We'll keep you here for another day or two in order to ensure that you won't have any violent reactions or life-threatening attacks while the PCP continues to filter from your body, but then, you'll be free to go, although we'll want you to stay with someone for the next week...just a precaution."

"Okay."

Tim watched as Dr. Stapleton removed all the restraints and then he sat up...only to fall back to the bed.

"Dizzy?"

"Very."

"Take it slowly. You've had a rough week."

"Okay."

"Now, if you have any problems, any attacks, just push the call button and we'll be right in. Otherwise, I'll leave you to continue your conversation."

"Thank you, Dr. Stapleton," Tim said, meaning it more this time.

"You're welcome."

Tim looked awkwardly at Vance now that he was sitting next to the bed again.

"Director?"

"Yes, McGee?"

"Did everyone ..._see_ me like that?"

"Only myself, the MCRT, Ducky and Abby. ...oh, Pamela Long, my assistant also saw you. However, as far as the rest of NCIS is concerned, you are recovering from a drug overdose inflicted on you by a suspect. No one else has seen you act the way you were."

Tim felt unaccountably relieved. "Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me for that."

"Yes, I do. I'm embarrassed enough by..."

"They'll be coming to see you this evening, I'm sure."

"Evening?"

"It's barely afternoon. I had to work on the weekend; so I took the day off today."

"Oh."

"Don't worry. You've haven't lost anything in the eyes of the people who saw what happened," Vance said shrewdly.

Tim managed a weak smile. "Thanks."

After Vance left, however, Tim couldn't erase the worry. He was afraid of seeing everyone after this.

"What am I going to say?" he whispered aloud.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Tim had hoped to fall asleep after Vance left, but he was too wound up. He wanted nothing more than to go to sleep and wake up with all this having been a dream. Barring that being possible, Tim wanted nothing more than to keep from seeing any of his teammates again. He couldn't believe that he'd done all those things on a PCP trip. He couldn't believe that there was _that_ inside him...even crazy...

Tim closed his eyes tightly and curled up into a fetal position, blanket and hands over his head in an attempt to shield himself from knowing that he had that insanity inside him somewhere. Who was it that had said he'd erased the line between genius and insanity? Tim couldn't remember.

_Whoever it was, he was wrong. I did that._

Tim groaned.

"Hey! The Probie's awake and unchained!"

Tim winced and didn't come out from under the covers.

_Tony. I hit Tony in the face._

"Hey, McGee, you in there?"

Tim still didn't reply.

_Maybe if I don't say anything he'll leave._

"McGee?" Tony's voice didn't sound quite so jocular.

"You said he was awake?"

_Ziva. I didn't do anything to her...did I? Vance didn't _say_ I did._

"Well, I _thought_ he was. He's not moving, but..."

"If he is sleeping, perhaps we should leave him be. He was rather frightening when he woke up yesterday."

Tim winced again.

"No way. He'll be _happy_ to see us! Where's the boss?"

"He is probably listening to Abby talk his ear off, looking for reassurance that she really does not lisp."

Another wince.

_Lisping because I knocked her tooth out._

"Hey, guys, can you tell which tooth?"

Tim heard Abby's voice. He couldn't hear a lisp. ...not that it made him feel any better. In fact, he wanted to cry...which was stupid. Part of him knew that Vance hadn't been lying to him...but that didn't matter right now. All that mattered was...

"I can't tell," Tony said. "I'd never know you broke a tooth."

_I broke it for her._

"Ha, they can't tell, Gibbs!" Abby said delightedly.

_I kicked Gibbs._

Tim let out a whimper.

"Tim?"

"McGee?"

Tim curled into a tighter ball and didn't respond.

"McGee?"

Tim shook his head, even though he knew no one could see him. He was humiliated. He was mortified. He was horrified at what he had done. He didn't want to see these people. Ever again.

Then, he felt a draft as someone lifted the blanket off him.

"McGee, are you all right?"

"Go away," Tim whimpered...feeling both stupid for saying that, and embarrassed at being seen.

There was a brief silence and then someone sat beside him on the bed. Who that might be was instantly revealed when he felt the arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

"What's wrong, Tim?" Abby asked.

Tim struggled to remain calm, but he couldn't. He started to cry.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Whoa, McGee...what have _you_ got to be sorry for?"

Tim couldn't bear to say what he had done. Besides, they already knew. Abby hugged him more tightly.

"Tim, it's not your fault. Calm down! It's okay."

"I could have killed you. I probably _would_ have if..."

"No way, Probie. Not a chance."

"There _was_ a chance! I wouldn't have cared! I wouldn't have known! I could have shot you all...and not known I'd done it! I would have thought it was _right_! I don't even remember doing what I _did_! If I had killed you...I wouldn't have known about it until someone told me!"

More weights on the bed.

"McGee, it wasn't you," Gibbs said firmly. "The person in Vance's office wasn't really you."

"Does it really matter? It still would have been me...my hands...my gun..."

"Not your gun, Probie. You'd already taken the director's."

"You are not helping, Tony," Ziva said.

Then, the bugs were back and Tim began squirming and breathing heavily in his attempts to stop the sensations.

Abby didn't let him go, and someone else grabbed his hands, not painfully, just firmly.

"It's okay, Tim. Don't worry. We're all fine, and you will be in no time! Don't worry! Now that my crown is on, I'm not even upset at all! So it's really okay!"

It was less than a minute that Tim felt the bugs. Then, they were gone again. He still hadn't opened his eyes. There was another long silence.

Then...

"Hey, man...you're really upset by all this, aren't you?" Tony asked, sounding completely serious.

Tim nodded without speaking.

"Well...don't be. Come on, you hit me harder when we were on stakeout together. Besides, Vance and I are still kicking ourselves that we didn't notice how off you were at the house. We should have seen that things weren't right, but we didn't. We just let you go off to NCIS. So much for being trained investigators."

"I didn't notice either," Tim whispered.

"Yeah...but you were the one on drugs, McGee. You _shouldn't_ have been in a position to notice."

"...and I didn't..."

"McGee, come on, it's all right. Really. If it wasn't, you know I'd be milking it for all it's worth."

Tim smiled.

"So, relax a bit and let us fawn over you. It'll probably be the only time it happens. Ever. In your lifetime."

"Yeah...I know." Finally, Tim opened his eyes. They were all sitting around him. "Where's Ducky?"

"A last-minute need to process a body. He'll get here."

"Okay." Tim looked earnestly at them all. He could see Tony's bruised cheek. He couldn't see any other sign of damage on any of them. "Are you sure that–?"

"Positive," Abby said instantly.

Tim laughed a little. "I don't know what to say. I'm really sor–"

_Thwack!_

"Stop it, McGee," Gibbs said. "You have nothing to apologize for. You weren't in control of yourself and there's no way you could have been once Arnold gave you the PCP. In fact, even if they'd realized it, the only difference is that you would have been put under sooner. They couldn't have magically cured you. All they could have done was try to keep you from getting so overloaded that your body gave up."

"There's a fine line between genius and insanity, Boss," Tim said.

There was a moment when Gibbs only looked at him blankly and then smiled as he remembered to what Tim was referring.

"Well, as I remember, that woman was murdered by someone else, not suicidal. ...and you weren't insane. You were drugged. So...I don't want you worrying about that."

Tim nodded.

"Thanks for hugging me, Abbs."

"Anytime, Tim," Abby said and put her arms around him again. "I'm just glad that I can."

"Thanks," Tim said again.

"I'll be glad when you're back to normal, McGee," Tony said. "You look too miserable for me to tease right now."

_Thwack!_

Tim smiled. "I think I'll be glad for that, too, Tony."

"Just remember. You said it."

"I will."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two weeks later..._

Tim inhaled deeply as he stood in front of the elevator. He hadn't been to NCIS at all since his...incident. He still hated thinking about it, but he'd come to terms with the fact that he'd been crazy. Temporarily.

"Agent McGee?"

Tim looked back over his shoulder and saw Henry smiling at him.

"Yeah?"

"You do need to push the button. I don't expect anyone else to be coming in here for a while."

"You're right." Tim stared at the elevator. "Henry?"

"Yeah?"

"Did I act crazy when I came in before?"

"You mean a couple of weeks ago?"

"Yeah."

"I wasn't really paying attention. I just signed you in. You were pretty impatient, I remember. Didn't want to wait for me to do my thing."

"I didn't hit you, too, did I?"

"Of course not. If you had, I'd have hit _you_ back...and you'd have been down for the count."

Tim laughed.

"Won't get any easier if you stay down here."

"I know."

"So go on."

Tim nodded and pushed the button. The doors opened and he got into the elevator. Henry waved as the doors closed.

It seemed like it took forever for the elevator to rise to the level of the bullpen. When the elevator doors opened, Tim hesitated before stepping out. Tony, Ziva and Gibbs were already at their desks. He'd been a little late...worrying about coming back.

"McGee!" Ziva said, smiling happily at him as he walked around the borders. "You are looking well!"

Tim smiled in return. "Thanks, Ziva."

"Yeah, you're not looking too bad, Probie. I guess."

"Thanks, Tony."

"How are you feeling, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"Like normal, Boss."

Gibbs nodded and looked at his monitor.

"The line's a lot thicker, now," Tim added, grinning.

Gibbs looked up in surprise and then rolled his eyes.

"Oh, man, McLame," Tony groaned. "That was bad...even for you."

"Thanks, Tony."

"For what?"

Tim just sat down and smiled, glad to be back. Even if he wasn't normal.

FINIS!


End file.
